


Welcome Home

by FuckMeGentlyWithAChainsaw



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst, hospital mention, overdose mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-12-10 01:27:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11681154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FuckMeGentlyWithAChainsaw/pseuds/FuckMeGentlyWithAChainsaw
Summary: “Now wait just a minute,” Bob called. “I understand you’re still recovering but you can’t treat me that way. I’m still your father.”Jack turned on his heel and slammed his book down on the countertop, “then act like it,” he said sharply.





	Welcome Home

He’d been home for almost a week. It was just long enough to be upset by the lack of routine but he still woke up disoriented every morning to find that he was in his childhood bedroom instead of the hospital. 

“Jack,” Bob greeted. Wondering through the kitchen wearing trainers and workout clothes. “No run this morning?” 

“No,” he replied curtly, sipping his tea in the breakfast nook while he picked through one of his old history books from school. 

Bob pulled a mug from the cabinet, “you’ll get out of shape if you don’t—“

“Okay, Papa.” Jack cut him off. It was too early and too soon. Half the time he just wanted to sleep and the other half of the time he felt guilty for giving up his workout routine while he was in rehab. For disappointing his parents, his billet family, and his coaches. For letting Kenny win. 

Bob poured himself a cup of coffee and turned to lean back against the counter, frowning, “I just meant to say—“

“I know what you meant.” Jack snapped, closing his book. “I’ll be—“ 

“Now wait just a minute,” Bob called. “I understand you’re still recovering but you can’t treat me that way. I’m still your father.” 

Jack turned on his heel and slammed his book down on the countertop, “then act like it,” he said sharply. 

Bob set down his mug, “what the hell is that supposed to mean?” He asked. 

“It means that you were supposed to fucking notice that something was wrong.” Jack barked, voice breaking. “I couldn’t breathe, Papa, I can’t breathe. Ever. And you didn’t do anything. You just let me--“ he cut off and huffed a breath as he swiped angry tears away from his cheeks. This wasn’t how he meant to talk to his father about this. 

“Your mother and I always made it clear that you didn’t have to play hockey if you didn’t want to. Every step of the way we let you make your own decisions.” 

“I know that,” Jack shouted, “I know and I chose hockey because I love hockey. I don’t know how to want anything other than hockey and then when I thought I wasn’t—Papa I never had anything else, not that mattered enough for me to—“ He cut off. 

“For you to what, Jack?” Bob asked, quietly.

“For me to care? To live for?” Jack continued, “I spent my whole life trying to get drafted, Papa and I felt like I was dying and you just let me. Don’t tell me to give you treat you a certain way because you’re my father because you were supposed to care. You were supposed to notice and you didn’t.” Jack finished. “That’s what that means.” He grabbed his book off the counter and stormed out, slamming his bedroom door. He felt childish. The fact that he was still crying didn’t do much to help. 

Welcome home, he thought.


End file.
